Still Carrying the Past
by Batsutousai
Summary: Loki looks to make right all that he once made wrong. Sequel to Haunt Me - Loki


**Title:** _Still Carrying the Past_  
**Fandom:** Marvel (movie 'verse)  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Shara Lunison  
**Rating:** R/M  
**Pairings:** Loki/Tony Stark  
**Warnings:** post-Ragnarok, character death, allusions to past tortures and other violence, reincarnation (of a fashion), canon racism, mention of previous Tony/Pepper  
**Summary:** Loki looks to make right all that he once made wrong.  
**Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** A sequel to Haunt Me ~ Loki, which was born of a prompt from mystatusquo ((on tumblr)). AislingSiobhan pestered me until I ended up writing this.  
All you really need to know was that Tony and Loki were a thing, then Ragnarok happened, Loki remembered his last life upon his rebirth and worked to make sure Tony and the other Avengers were happy in their lives, only for Tony to marry Pepper and live happily ever after, as the story goes.  
This opens after the second Ragnarok, where Loki, again, remembers everything.

This is very much Loki-centric, and Tony doesn't show up 'til the last half. There's a fair bit of Thor and his posse, and the Jötun element gets some attention. It's long. (Sorry if it comes across as rambling; I was super tired while writing a huge chunk of it, and regularly being distracted by my mother for the rest. ^.^")

-0-

Two lifetimes past, and Loki still remembered all. He recalled the events that had led to his death, the Ragnarok that had come at the hands of one far more cruel than himself, and he thought of how he could change the universe for the better.

When Odin came for the Casket, Loki let out a cry in his forgotten corner, flailing and making a nuisance of himself until the Allfather had picked him up. Then he stared at the king, wide-eyed and childishly trusting. Odin brought him home and introduced him to Frigga as their son, Loki.

It wasn't that Loki had truly wanted to live again as Odin's second son, but there were allies he could only make from the steps of the Asgardian throne, so he steeled himself for a life under Odin's roof and acted the unknowing child.

That act lasted only until the day one of his and Thor's tutors started going on about how terrible the Jötun were.

"Are they?" Loki asked before he thought to censor himself.

Thor jerked out of his daze and turned to look at the younger prince as their tutor asked, "Pardon me?"

Loki thought about brushing it off, about pretending he'd been daydreaming like Thor and had spoken aloud unintentionally. But the Jötun were _his people_, and he had spent a lifetime amongst them, sharing in their pains and victories, blessing children born to the harsh wilds of their realm and meting out judgements for all manner of disputes. A lingering dislike of the Jötun remained from his first life, but he was largely accepting of his species now, and he couldn't bear to sit back and let someone fill the future king of Asgard's head with lies.

So he set his shoulders, met his tutor's eyes straight on, and asked, "Are Jötun truly the monsters you call them?"

The tutor blinked. "Well, of _course_ they are.""How so?"

The tutor seemed uncertain how to answer that. "Well, they... They are barbarians, of course!"

"And Æsir aren't?" Loki returned without pause. "Do y–we not kill for sport? Do we not make war for boredom? Do we not publicly execute wrong-doers, all turning out to watch the proceedings? Are these very things, of which Asgard is most proud, not barbaric in their own right?"

The tutor floundered for a moment, looking towards a wide-eyed Thor as if the elder prince would have answers. Then he narrowed his eyes at Loki. "They eat their own children!"

Loki couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Jötun did no such thing, treasured their young perhaps even more dearly that the Æsir, due to the higher mortality rate that came from living in a realm made almost entirely of ice.

"You think such _funny_?" the tutor demanded.

Loki snorted and gathered his things, standing from the table he and Thor shared. "I think you are a fool, and unworthy of my time," he replied evenly. "I'll be in the library, learning truths, not these farfetched lies you spew of a people you know nothing of." And he left.

That night, seated around the fire in their family chambers, Odin asked, "Loki, why did you walk out on your tutor?" Because if one of the princes was going to walk out on lessons, it would be Thor, who would much rather be rough-housing with other children than sitting in a room to learn from old men who droned on and on about things he could care less about.

"Because he's a fool," Loki replied absently, not looking up from his book. It was one he'd read before, during his first life, but it had been thousands of years since then, and he thought to refresh his memory. He had found a handful of spells in it that he had forgotten, already, and kept a scrap of paper as a place-marker to write down any more.

Frigga gently took the book from his hands, smiling at his frown. "How so?"

Loki huffed. "He said Jötun eat their offspring."

"Well, they _do_," Thor said from in front of the fire, an array of figures at war spread out around him.

Loki rolled his eyes towards the Allfather, looking for his wisdom on the matter. Odin spared an odd look towards his adopted son even as he said, "They do not, in fact, eat their young. But they don't care for them in quite the way we do, either."

Loki stiffened and fought to keep his voice even when he said, "I would think not, with how cold it must be there. I imagine they worry, first, for the strongest children, the ones most likely to survive." He met Odin's single eye with the ease of nearly two thousand of years of practise. "When you know a child will not survive, is it not kinder to end their suffering early? Do we not do the same with children born with physical defects?"

"Those children are given a quick, painless death," Odin returned, something worrying in his gaze. "The Jötun leave those unwanted children to die alone in the elements."

Loki smiled bitterly. "To give them a chance to prove themselves capable of surviving, I should think. Just because a child isn't optimal, doesn't mean they shouldn't be given a chance to prove that they can manage just as well as any of their peers. Or do you believe a physical impairment is a sign that one cannot continue to function as normal?"

Odin inclined his head. "You make a fair point, Loki. That doesn't make the practise any less cruel."

Loki shrugged. "I didn't say it wasn't cruel, I just said that Æsir aren't so different when it comes to children that are unsuited to their ideal life. The difference is that the Jötun give their children the chance to prove otherwise, Æsir don't. Just because we go about things in different manners doesn't make one people barbarians and the other not."

"Are you calling us barbarians?" Thor demanded.

Loki sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I am tired. May I be excused?"

Frigga handed back his book and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Pleasant dreams, Loki," she said and he left, ignoring Thor.

Over the next few years, Thor made it his purpose to prove to Loki that the Jötun were monsters. He could often be found listening to war stories, or bent over a stack of tomes in the library. Loki watched this change with disbelieving eyes, but he quickly came to enjoy those moments when Thor found 'proof' of Jötun monstrosity and brought it to the younger to either rebut or show that the Æsir were similar.

Finally, having gone through every resource at his disposal, Thor was forced to concede that Jötun were not, in fact, monsters, but were very like the Æsir, in a slightly different way.

"How do you know all these things, anyway?" Thor asked unexpectedly one afternoon.

Loki glanced up from his book, eyebrows raised. "Know what things, Thor?"

"Everything about the Jötun."

"I read, and listen, and consider things with an open mind."

"I read and listened, too," Thor complained. "You always know more than I can find. How is that?"

Loki considered the young man he was beginning to think of as 'Brother' again in his mind. Thor was no genius, but he was honest, and far more accepting of Loki's words than he'd ever been in the past. "What do you know of Ragnarok?" he asked after motioning to hide them from both Heimdall and Odin's attention.

Thor scrunched his nose up in a manner that Loki had always found stupidly endearing. "Ragnarok?" he repeated. "The end of existence. The moment when Lady Death finally sends out those souls she has gathered to bring all others back to her arms. It's foretold to come to be in a _glorious_ battle."

Loki snorted; of _course_ Thor would remember the part about the grand battle. "That's true. But Lady Death cannot be without lives to collect, and so Ragnarok is not so much the end of all life as it is the rebirth of life. _All_ life."

Thor shrugged. "So?"

Loki's lips twisted with a bitter smile. "At Ragnarok, everything will die and the realms will begin again, from the moment of their conception. Every life that has been, will be again. It is a never-ending cycle, the same warriors in the same battle over and over again, only little changes affecting the ending of that cycle.

"For some reason I cannot fathom, I have been cursed to remember these cycles. I have seen Ragnarok twice, now, and am cursed to see it a third."

Thor stared at him, eyes wide and pained, much like how he always appeared when Loki received a wound during practise fights at his hand. "You have died twice?" he whispered, voice breaking.

Loki looked away, shrugging. "It is destined to happen, Thor. You need not look so hurt."

"I would find those that did you harm and see they not get the chance again!" Thor roared.

Loki glanced at him, considering, while the blond scowled from his chair. "That list," he said at last, "is far longer than I believe you could manage, and many on it have not yet been born." He watched Thor deflate, then added, "You are on it."

Thor jerked as though hit, and he turned wounded eyes on Loki. "I would _never_–"

"Have care for your words, Thor," Loki suggested drily. "Do you truly believe me incapable of bringing you to such rage that you would see me suffer for it?"

Thor brought his knees to his chest and curled around them, appearing painfully small to Loki, who had always seen Thor as larger than life, even when they had been at odds. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "You're my brother. I should never wish harm upon you, no matter your words or actions to bring me to such."

"Adopted," Loki commented, comfortable with that fact after a lifetime without it hanging over his head.

Thor peeked up at him from over his knees, looking young and helpless. "What?" he whispered.

Loki shrugged. "Odin brought me back from Jötunheim, a babe left out in the cold to live or die, Norns willing. My true father is Laufey."

Thor's eyes widened, and Loki watched as he connected Loki's insistence that Jötun weren't monsters for what it truly was. "Oh," he breathed.

Loki's lips twisted with a cruel smile. " 'Oh' indeed. You once ordered my death for the simple fact that I am Jötun. Asgard has never been accepting of my kind."

Thor's jaw tightened. "That ends now," he decided, and there was a glimpse of the king he had become during Loki's first life in his eyes. A promise of equality and a love for all beings of the Nine Realms.

Loki, jaded by two lives of racism, thought that was extremely unlikely.

Thor tried to make people look past over two decades of war propaganda, and Loki truly appreciated it, but few were willing to think of Jötun as more than very large monsters. The group that would one day become the Warriors Three were of the few willing to see Thor's words as truth, Lady Sif another, once Loki had hunted her down and dragged her into the training yards one afternoon. The golden hair, where he was used to black, was distracting, but he resigned himself to it, seeing no reason to incur her wrath by cutting it all off again. And Sif, so grateful to have been given a chance and his support without pause, gifted Loki with none of the condescension he remembered from his first life, which made her a far more tolerable companion.

Truthfully, all four of Thor's friends seemed more tolerable. Loki couldn't be sure if that was because he was different, or if it was because Thor was more concerned for Loki's state than he'd ever been before. They still wanted to go out and make names for themselves, dragging Loki along as a master of magical arts, but they also took heed of his warnings when he said they should turn back. That, he knew, was Thor more than anything else, trusting Loki when he would have, before, brushed his concern to the side. But there was none of the insults for his preference for magic and trickery, either, and he could never be certain what brought that change.

The only time Thor didn't listen to Loki's cautions, was the time he decided he wanted to go to Jötunheim. It was perhaps three centuries since he'd discovered Loki was a Jötun, and he had clearly been thinking on the possibility for a long time.

"I want to see Jötunheim," he announced one afternoon while they were relaxing in the gardens. Sif and Hogun were caring for their weapons and Loki reading a book while Fandral and Volstagg tormented the fish in a nearby pond. Thor had been staring up at the sky, twirling Mjölnir in one hand, and the comment seemed to come from nowhere.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him, disbelieving and wary. "It is forbidden," Sif reminded him carefully, looking towards Loki to be the voice of reason.

"I don't want to make war–" Thor started.

"It's not about war, Thor," Loki interrupted, and the elder pushed up on his elbows to look at him. Loki closed his book, marking his spot with one finger. "It's about breaking the treaty, and the danger in going to that realm without protection. Just because you view them favourably, doesn't mean the Jötun would pause to remove your head."

Thor watched him for another long moment, then nodded and laid back down. Loki hoped it the end of that discussion, but Thor brought it up again and again, wearing on everyone's patience until it was only Loki trying to dissuade him.

"He's not going to stop wanting to go," Sif pointed out one afternoon while she and Loki sat watching the other males spar in the training yards. "At least if we give in, we'll know he's not going on his own."

"Jötunheim is no place for idiots looking for glory," Loki replied. "It's forbidden for a reason, and I wish he would just let it be."

Sif nodded and said, "He seems to think you're interested in going, yourself."

Loki pressed his mouth into a thin line; it was true that a part of him wanted to return to his native realm, but not at the cost of his brother and the other Æsir he found himself enjoying the company of. Truly, he'd thought more than once of travelling Yggdrasil to visit, but he was uncertain of his welcome and had no interest in fighting for his birthright.

Sif's eyes widened. "You _do_ want to go," she realised.

Loki snorted. "Not enough to risk anyone's life."

"But you want to go, same as Thor," Sif said, clearly surprised. "I thought it was just Thor, but it's _both_ of you."

"I'll be in the library," Loki decided, done with the conversation.

"Wait, Loki." Sif grabbed his wrist as he moved to leave.

"What?"

"Just... He's determined to go. You know it as well as the rest of us. Wouldn't you rather he go with us – with _you_ and your clever tongue – at his back?"

Loki pulled away and retired to the library. Yes, of course she was correct. Thor did as Thor pleased, and damn the consequences. It was a trait he and Loki shared, and it drove Loki mad.

That night, he told Thor he needed two days to make preparations, then they could go to Jötunheim. Thor grinned widely. "I'll leave it to you," he agreed, acting for all the world as though he'd been expecting the words. Which he likely had.

It wasn't until they were ready to go that someone – Fandral, in this case – thought to ask, "How are we to convince Heimdall of the necessity of this journey?"

"We're not taking the Bifröst," Loki replied, shoving a coat at the warrior.

"What other route is there?" Sif wanted to know.

Loki snorted. "You honestly believe the Bifröst is the only connection between the realms?" He turned a glare on Volstagg as the man attempted to 'forget' the coat Loki had forced on him. "I will drop you on Midgard if you aren't wearing that, and you can find your own way home. I promise you won't manage this route without me."

"You're not wearing a coat," Volstagg muttered as he pulled his back on.

"Loki has other ways of keeping warm," Thor commented, grinning from behind the scarf he'd dragged out of some hole in his room. Loki thought it might have been something he'd gifted the elder prince, but he wasn't certain.

"Loki is a shape-shifter," Hogun reminded them blandly.

Loki snorted and looked them over. He decided they were well enough and motioned them forward, forcibly placing Thor's hand on his shoulder. "Do not lose contact with me or each other," he ordered and everyone hurried to clasp hands or shoulders.

Travelling Yggdrasil with a group was no mean feat, but Loki was well-familiar with the branches and didn't falter in his course. They stepped out into the frozen wastes after not quite twenty minutes, and the five Æsir immediately started shivering. Loki, for his part, showed no reaction to the chill, plenty comfortable even in his Áss skin and seeing no reason to fake a chill.

"W-w-we're h-here," Fandral chattered. "Ca-an we g-g-go back n-now?"

Thor shook his head and looked to Loki. "I want to see the capitol."

"No," Loki said without pause. "Out here, we're safe, save an occasional snow wolf. Stepping into the city will be to forfeit all our lives."

Thor set his jaw. "I'm going to the city."

"Are you _insane_?!" Loki demanded. "Perhaps you're just _looking_ for death? What part of this is glorious, Thor? The part where the guardian hounds play a tugging game with your arms and you scream as they're slowly ripped from their sockets and you're left a bloody mess upon the ground while they gnaw on your bones? Or perhaps that moment when you're laid bare to the elements and forced to face off against warrior after warrior with nothing but an icicle while a crowd cheers your opponents on?"

Thor grimaced at the imagery, aware that Loki had very likely seen just such events occur. "I'm not here for a fight," he said around his grimace.

Loki rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Then why _are_ we here?"

Thor took a slow breath, then admitted, "I want to try making a treaty, one that benefits the Jötun, too."

"_What_?!" the Warriors Three and Sif all called.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Laufey won't want your treaties, Thor. He wants the head of every Áss on a pike, lining the path from the Bifröst to his throne. And he wants Odin's head in a place of honour on the back of his throne. You're the son of Odin; where do you think he'll want _your_ head?"Thor shook his head. "You said the Jötun would do practically anything to get the Casket of Ancient Winters back."

"I'm not stealing that from him just so you can feel good about yourself for a couple years," Loki snapped. "We're going back."

"Too late," Fandral whispered, looking out at where a group of Jötun had appeared from the endless wastes, all grinning nastily. The Æsir all reached for weapons, but Thor motioned for them to stand at peace with a sharp gesture.

"Well, well. Looks like a group of pale children, out after curfew," one of them said, and the others chuckled. "Did you get lost heading home?"

"We were just–" Loki started, but Thor cut him off.

"We're here to speak with King Laufey."

Loki barely resisted the urge to moan, but Fandral and Volstagg weren't so capable, letting their disapproval be known in tandem.

The Jötun in charge of this party – a man Loki knew to be particularly hateful towards Æsir – chortled. "Not with your weapons, I think," he said. "Hand everything over and we'll escort you ourselves."

Thor handed Mjölnir over without complaint, and the others followed suit. Of course, with Thor being able to call his weapon at a moment's notice, and Loki's strength laying in his magic, they were not so defenceless as they appeared. But, then, these Jötun didn't actually know who they were dealing with, and they crowded the group of visitors as they motioned them towards the main city.

"If you survive this, I will kill you myself once we're home," Loki muttered to Thor as they walked.

Thor grinned. "Don't you trust me, Brother?"

Loki just pinned him with an unimpressed look and turned away to watch the looming city. A pang of homesickness came over him, and he swallowed against a lump; he had spent over two millennia living in this city, had given his life to protect it, even. It seemed odd to be returning to it after resigning himself to a life in Asgard; without Thor's hatred of Loki's kin, he had expected to never set foot on Jötunheim again, never mind in this city.

Thor always ruined his plans. You'd think Loki would have learned better by now.

Laufey, unlike his people, recognised the Áss prince right off. Without ceremony, he turned his arm to ice and swung it at Thor's head, face a mask of rage.

Equally lacking in ceremony, Loki changed to his Jötun form and met his father's arm with his own, eyes narrowed. "Do you _want_ to bring Odin Allfather down on your head?" he snarled. "This realm is in enough ruin without you provoking the anger of the only man keeping it in one piece!"

Laufey's rage bled into shock at being stopped in such a way, which then coloured with anger at Loki's chiding. Then, unexpectedly, relief and amazement. The ice melted from the king's arm and he breathed, "You're _alive_."

It was Loki's turn for shock, and he let his ice-covered arm fall to his side. "Of _course_ I'm alive," he snapped, falling back on the familiar defence of anger to hide his surprise. "Have I need to change that?"

Before Laufey could respond to that, a young voice called out, "_Brother_!" and a young Jötun about a head shorter than Loki barrelled into him.

"Býleistr," Loki recognised, hugging his youngest brother back. Where Helblindi had always been a stick in the mud, disapproving of Loki's every action, Býleistr had adored Loki, doubly so after he'd brought back the Casket of Ancient Winters and healed their realm. When the events that would become Ragnarok fell upon Jötunheim, Býleistr had stood firmly at Loki's side, unafraid of the death he met there.

And when Býleistr looked up, eyes just a shade lighter than the average Jötun-red, Loki saw memories in them of battles they had fought in together in another life. Relief and horror rolled over him in equal amounts, because as much as he liked the idea of having someone else around who remembered, the idea that this brother had been born with the memories of his own death and the destruction of Jötunheim that Loki had been unable to stop, honestly hurt. Loki knew what those sorts of memories could do to you, and he curled around Býleistr, as though he might protect his brother from damage already done.

"You remember," Býleistr breathed against Loki's chest plate, awed.

"Brother?" Thor called, reminding Loki that there were others watching. A glance at the Warriors Three and Sif found them torn between disbelief and distrust, and Loki realised he would have to tread carefully, lest he lose the friendships he'd come to enjoy in this life.

Loki swallowed and carefully unwrapped himself from Býleistr. "In truth," he said to his companions, "I am Jötun. Laufey is my father by blood. The Allfather spirited me away after the war."

"Something for which he will pay. Dearly," Laufey rumbled, expression twisting again with anger as he turned his eyes upon Thor.

Loki narrowed his eyes at his father. "He would be a poor king, who spends his every thought on revenge," he commented coolly. "Thor is as much my brother as Býleistr and Helblindi, and should you have even one breath of the care for me that your pleasure at my continued life hinted at, you will do him no harm."

Laufey scowled, but turned his gaze from the blond prince. Before he might comment, Sif called, "Oh, _this_ is comforting. So you'll protect Thor, yet you spy for your _kind_."

Loki sighed and closed his eyes, resigned to the dislike of a lifetime he'd thought long past, but Thor was not so lenient, and he turned on Sif with a snarl of, "Hold your _tongue_!"

"He's _Jötun_!" Sif snapped back.

"I'm well aware," Thor said, tone warning of impending violence, "and have been since long before you were offered a sword. So I say again, _hold your tongue_."

"This was why you've defended Jötun so fervently," Fandral recognised looking at Loki with none of the disgust the Trickster had expected. "All these years we've wondered, but never asked."

"Did we come for a better treaty like you said, then?" Volstagg asked. "Or for Loki?"

"After how determined Loki was to _not_ come," Fandral muttered.

"Both," Thor admitted and Loki snorted.

The snort was echoed by Laufey. "A 'better treaty'? You'll have us in your halls, acting as your pets, next."

Thor took a deep breath and faced the Jötun king as he would have Odin: Meeting his eyes, but tilting his head just the slightest to indicate deference. "Loki said you need the Casket of Ancient Winters or Jötunheim will crumble to nothing, no matter how much of himself Father puts towards holding it together."

Laufey glanced towards Loki, who stared back, showing none of the deference Thor offered. "This is truth," the Jötun king agreed.

Thor nodded. "I'd like to see it back in your realm, then, where it belongs." Laufey's eyes gleamed with greed. "But not if you're just going to use it to start another war."

Laufey smoothed his expression. "Now, why would I do that?"

"Because you hate the Æsir with all the heat of Muspellsheim's core, and would like nothing better than to see them wiped from the face of the Nine Realms," Loki remarked drily.

Laufey smiled. "Perhaps you should remain, then, and have care of it. As is befitting of Jötunheim's First Prince."

Loki hummed and glanced down at Býleistr. "It's true that it would be a fitting duty for the First Prince. Do you think Helblindi could be trusted with that much responsibility, though?"

Býleistr frowned. "Helblindi? Why not you, Loki? You were the best king Jötunheim ever had."

"Conflict of interest," Loki quipped. "Also, Helblindi would make my life a nightmare for usurping him."

Býleistr grimaced in silent agreement at that last as Laufey snapped, "Conflict of interest? And what causes this confliction? _Asgard_? You are of _Jötunheim_, boy!"

"I am of _both_," Loki replied evenly, meeting his father's eyes without flinching. "And you would do well to remember that." He smoothly changed his form back to that of an Áss.

Laufey glared like he would bend Loki to his will by gaze alone, but Loki was long immune to such attempts to force his compliance and the Jötun king had to look away from his son's amused smirk.

Býleistr touched Loki's arm, then. "I would like to see Asgard," he said, hopeful. And Loki knew his brother meant he wanted to see the city before the devastation of pre-Ragnarok wars left it in ruin, because they had gone there after Jötunheim was dust, looking for allies, and finding none still alive.

Still. "I am uncertain of the wisdom in such a visit," he said carefully. "At this time, given the illegal nature of our absence, returning with a member of a species Asgard's people seem to believe themselves to be eternally at war with, may only incite further violence."

Býleistr drooped slightly, but then Thor had to go and ask, "Could you not perform an illusion to give him the form of an Áss? He's not so tall it would be obvious that he is not as he appears." Loki shot the blond a glare, to which Thor offered his most idiotic smile. "Perhaps having a Jötun prince without ties to the throne of Asgard will help put Father in a mood more inclined towards a treaty?"

"At times, Brother, I am in awe of your pleasant little dream world," Loki replied drily. "It must be very much a simple paradise, for I fathom no other reason for some of the fool ideas you concoct."

"You're only jealous because you have to live in reality," Thor retorted, grinning madly.

"That's his problem exactly!" Volstagg called, laughing when Loki shot him an irritated look.

"Please, Father?" Býleistr asked Laufey. "I could treat with the Allfather on your behalf, and you need never leave Jötunheim."

Laufey's expression said he quite liked that idea, and Loki could guess why; the less Laufey and Odin met, the more likely things were to go well in drafting and signing a proper treaty between their people. Still, he focussed his attention on Loki. "I expect you to assist Býleistr in this. You know the Allfather's ways and are clever enough to avoid his little amusements."

Thor let out a disapproving sound at the slight to his father, but Loki just shrugged. "Very well." He would have insisted on being a part of the negotiations, anyway, so it made no difference, beyond giving him a more formal reason to be involved, should Odin think to send him away.

Laufey turned to Thor, then. "I trust, little Asgardian, that you will see to _both_ my sons' safety while they reside in your realm."

Thor inclined his head. "Loki is more than capable of caring for himself, but I shall ensure no harm comes to Býleistr which does not, first, pass through me, on my honour as First Prince of Asgard."

Laufey nodded, content with that, and settled back into his throne. "You have one full revolution," he announced, directing it towards Býleistr and Loki, who knew the length of time he spoke of better than the Æsir (it was approximately a week, as they figured time in Asgard), and the brothers nodded their understanding.

Odin was not pleased when their group returned to Asgard – travelling by Bifröst, as they were bringing a guest, for all that Býleistr was disguised – but he waited until Býleistr had been shown a room, and the Warriors Three and Sif had left for their homes, before turning to his sons and demanding an explanation.

"It's not right that any race of the Nine Realms be treated with such indifference or contempt as we gift the Jötun," Thor said to the question, head held proudly for a long moment before he ducked it and admitted, "And I wanted Loki to be free to visit all his family."

Odin's gaze jerked towards Loki, openly surprised, and the darker-haired prince smiled tightly. "I'm aware of my true origins," he allowed.

Odin sighed. "And this guest you have brought? He is one of your kin?"

"My youngest brother," Loki agreed with a shrug. "He is here to treat on Laufey's behalf, with my assistance."

Odin betrayed a hint of surprise again. "Laufey trusts you to act on his behalf? Raised Æsir as you have been?"

Loki shrugged again. "He does." He didn't elaborate, having never had the interest to explain his memory of his past lives to anyone beyond the once to Thor. (Thor had asked why he didn't explain it to Odin and Frigga, and Loki had asked, in turn, 'What would they do with such knowledge? Ragnarok cannot be avoided. Better they not know I was born knowing the worst of the realms.' Thor had never again brought up letting anyone else know of Loki's memories.)

Odin left it at that, but he quickly discovered, over the next week of debate, that Laufey's trust in Loki was well-placed; the prince of both Jötunheim and Asgard allowed no slight to his blood kin, arguing over any word that could possibly suggest Jötunheim and her people were less than any other people of the Nine Realms. There was little doubt in anyone's mind that Býleistr was only there to formalise the talks, sitting back and letting Loki manage everything for the Jötun side.

For those who weren't aware of Loki's heritage – which included most of the Council, who were required to sit in on any discussion of such importance – the fervour with which he took the side of Jötunheim was surprising, even given his well-known interest in the people of that world.

During the feast following the treaty being signed, Odin pulled his adopted son away from the subdued celebrations – Æsir would take any chance to drink, but there was more than enough hatred of the Jötun to put a damper on their enjoyment of the occasion – and asked, "Will you be returning to Jötunheim?"

Loki had already agreed to escort Býleistr back to his home realm, but they both knew that wasn't what the Allfather was asking. "For a time," he agreed with a shrug. "But not for over-long." He met Odin's eye. "Asgard is as much my home as Jötunheim, and I intend to favour neither over the other, if I might avoid it."

Odin nodded. "And should Laufey die? You would be the next in line, are you not?"

Loki sighed. "As far as the laws of Jötunheim say, yes, I would be next for the throne. But I don't want it, and I told Laufey as much." He smiled a touch bitterly, remembering a fight from a lifetime long past. "I don't want _either_ throne, I never have." Even during his last life, when Laufey recognised him as First Prince, he hadn't wanted the throne. He had accepted it, much as he'd taken the throne of Asgard when forced upon him during Thor's banishment, but he had never _wanted_ it, and that hadn't changed after a few centuries leading his blood kin.

Odin looked back out towards the party. "I apologise for keeping the truth from you," he said, sounding almost casual.

Loki shook his head, having spent a lifetime moving past his fury with Odin's tendency to keep secrets. "I should have told you when I discovered the truth," he allowed. "Consider it a fair trade."

Odin glanced back at him, lips turned with a frown. "When _did_ you discover the truth?"

Loki smiled, false innocence held around him like a protective cloak. "I wonder," he said and walked away, towards where Thor had been cornered by a group of over-curious nobles. The blond prince would need Loki's easy lies to get away unscathed.

Loki spent the next millennium travelling between his two homes, doing his part to keep the peace. He found himself enjoying time spent with all his brothers, even though he and Helblindi had never truly got along during his last life. Býleistr suggested it was due to Loki not being First Prince in this life, but Loki rather thought it was more that he had an actual reason for constantly being out of Jötunheim, as that was what they had fought over the most.

Sometimes, Thor would travel to Jötunheim with Loki. The Æsir First Prince found no love from most of the Jötun, but he and Býleistr got on fantastically, and Helblindi seemed torn between wanting to know his fellow First Prince, and irritation at how careless Thor could be about many things. For Loki, who had spent a lifetime suffering with Thor by himself, watching Helblindi torn between interest and irritation was like a look into the past, as well as a source of constant amusement.

As for Loki's four parental figures... He and Frigga got on as wonderfully as ever, and his relationship with Odin saw no real change. Laufey appeared much more uncertain about him than he had when Loki had been raised Jötun, but his trust in whatever Býleistr had told him kept things peaceful, even if he was scarce when Thor was in attendance. Fárbauti, on the other hand, had always been slower to trust, but was also more forgiving of previous damages; once they'd moved past the initial distrust, she became both friend and supporter to Loki, as she had been in his previous life. She also got on well with Thor, which Loki hadn't expected, but she had refused an invite to Asgard when Thor offered it, which only seemed to surprised Thor, of those gathered at the time.

When time came for Steve Rogers to be born, Loki started making journeys to Midgard, between visiting Asgard and Jötunheim. Invisible to the one-time Avengers team leader, Loki kept the boy from becoming so ill he might die. Steve survived to the moment when he joined the military, and Loki left him to spend time with his family and keep Thor from asking questions about his disappearances. (The First Prince of Asgard was nearly four times as observant as he'd been in the past, and as happy as Loki was to see Thor growing into a king without being banished to Midgard, it did tend to keep Loki from many of the amusements he'd enjoyed during his first life.)

Loki returned to Midgard shortly after Steve vanished into the ice. He happened upon a desperate Howard Stark just as he found the Tesseract and waited until the man was alone with the item before appearing before him, seated on one of the few tables in the room.

Howard jumped and stumbled backwards into a chair, eyes wide on the god in his office. "H– Who are you?! How did you get in here?"

Loki smiled and leaned forward, arm supporting his chin by bracing against one knee. "Mr Stark. I am a party interested in that object you have discovered." He glanced towards where the Tesseract sat on the table between them. "I would see it returned to its rightful home."

"In Red Skull's hands?" Stark demanded, face shadowed with anger.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "I know of no such by that name," he replied evenly.

That seemed to throw Stark off his guard. "You– Where, then?"

"Where no human will have chance to touch it again." Loki smiled with a hint of teeth. "Some things are much too dangerous for your kind." He motioned and the Tesseract vanished into a magical pocket space for safekeeping until he returned to Asgard. When Stark sort of gaped at where it had been, Loki laughed and said, "I would suggest you not fight me for it."

Stark looked back up at him, swallowing hard. "Yes, I can see that." He shook his head. "What now?"

Loki considered that. "You will continue to move your species forward with your technologies," he said, then narrowed his eyes. "Should you wish to avoid my wrath in the future, you would do well to treat those children you sire well."

Stark snorted, though his expression was wary. "Children? Why would I want some little brat running around, getting into everything?"

Loki was beginning to understand why Anthony had always said his father had never wanted him. "To continue your company after your death," Loki suggested, "and to find Steven Rogers when you, inevitably, fail."

"I'm not going to _fail_," Stark snapped.

Loki shrugged. "For the sake of the future, when he will be needed again, you had best hope you do," he offered and moved through the barrier of the realms to Yggdrasil, hoping his actions would ease Anthony's childhood.

Loki didn't visit Howard Stark again. He focussed, instead, on ensuring the other Avengers had happier childhoods, but he tried not to set them so off course that they would never become those great warriors they had been. Because he'd learned during his last life just how important the Avengers had been to their realm – to _all_ the realms – in the end.

For Bruce and Clint, he managed to twist things in child services just enough to bring them together, and they formed a friendship that would survive decades and miles of separation. For Natasha, a doll that no one else could see, which he could magically speak through and give her a friend during the most trying moments of her training. And Anthony...

Loki never visited Howard Stark again, no, but he watched from afar as the man forced smiles and pride for his only son. It wasn't perfect, and Anthony clearly knew better than to trust his father's platitudes, but at least Stark tried, and at least he didn't ignore or beat Anthony, so Loki didn't come down on him like an avenging angel.

Anthony and Loki finally met at one charity ball or another, when the mortal was twenty-nine and running Stark Industries in name only, far too interested in sex and alcohol to care what he was signing when his PA – not Virginia Potts, Loki had been disturbed to discover – handed him a stack of papers. Loki often attended the charity functions Stark Industries held, watching his once-lover through crowds and waiting for some sign that Anthony was ready for him (he feared the mortal would _never_ be ready for the god, but he had hope and patience, so he sat back and tried not to care about the revolving door of women Anthony escorted from public).

Loki had been drawn into a conversation with James Rhodes – still Anthony's best friend, Loki had been relieved to discover – about a couple weapons Stark Industry had recently sold to the military, when the genius was suddenly standing next to him, a woman wearing too much perfume on one arm. "Hey, Rhodey," he greeted the pilot, smile wide and eyes curious as he turned to Loki. "I thought I knew all the smart people here?"

Loki smiled back smoothly. "I have been cleverly avoiding you so as to not be shown as false," he commented.

Anthony's smile widened and he slipped his hand from the woman at his side to offer to Loki. "Tony Stark."

"I'm quite aware of who you are," Loki returned, allowing a brief handshake.

Anthony's eyes narrowed when Loki didn't say anything further. "It's a common theme around here. But that doesn't mean I know your name." He glanced at James, who blinked, suddenly realising that he hadn't caught Loki's name earlier.

Loki gave a shallow bow. "I'm aware." He glanced towards the exit. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

"Wait!" Anthony called as Loki slipped into the thinning crowds, but a motion had Loki vanishing back into the embrace of Yggdrasil, breathing harder than he would have expected. He hadn't been prepared, and was certain he'd handled that poorly.

"Blast and damn," Loki muttered as he started for Jötunheim, a gesture fading his Midgardian suit into something more suitable for his native realm.

He didn't return to Midgard for almost two years as humans figured time, distracted by some difficulties that had appeared in Jötunheim which were eased with the presence of a sorcerer of Loki's calibre. When he returned, he didn't go immediately to check on Anthony, instead looking in on Clint and Natasha – the two were working for SHIELD by then, and cautious allies – and Bruce – who was on the run and had finally stopped returning Clint's attempts to contact him last year to keep the archer safe, not that he'd explained this to Clint, or that Clint would have accepted such excuses. Loki, though, could keep an eye on Bruce, then anonymously relay information about him back to Clint, who used it and his connections inside SHIELD to keep the military and members of SHIELD away from the fugitive.

Only after completing his other self-given duties, did Loki slip into one of Stark Industries' parties, stepping invisibly past the door greeters without anyone the wiser – these parties were by invitation only, and he wasn't on the list. He hadn't been inside for more than five minutes when Anthony appeared at his side, one hand slipping easily into Loki's arm. "Let's talk before I call security," he suggested with a wide smile that was all lies.

Loki glanced down at the shorter man. "As you please," he agreed.

Anthony led him away from the crowds and down a back hallway clearly designed for servers, ignoring any surprised looks at their presence. "Who are you?" the mortal demanded once they had passed the kitchen and most of the traffic, and he wasn't even pretending to be friendly any more. In his eyes, Loki could see the glint of Iron Man, and it thrilled him in a way he hadn't expected.

In response to that glint, Loki truthfully replied, "I am Loki, son of Laufey and Odin, Second Prince of both Jötunheim and Asgard."

Anthony blinked, his animosity bleeding away. "Wait... What? You're a...prince?"

Loki sighed and ran a careful hand through his hair, leaving it magically undisturbed from his favoured style. "I am. In your world, I am known better as a god; the Norse God of Mischief and Lies."

Anthony snorted, always more certain when religion was brought into the picture. "Yeah, right. Good tr–"

Loki teleported across the hallway, raising an eyebrow at the mortal when he turned to stare at him. "I assure you, Anthony, this is no falsity."

Anthony quickly rallied himself. "Right," he said blandly. "So you've got some sort of weird trick going on, some sort of, of–"

"Magic," Loki suggested just as blandly. "I had not thought you so neglected that you would not know so simple a concept."

Anthony's eyes flashed, and Loki realised he'd said the wrong thing just before the mortal snapped, "Get out. Get the _fuck_ out of my party and don't let me ev–"

Loki fell back into Yggdrasil, hurting and wanting to punish himself for being an idiot.

He went to Asgard and talked Thor into facing him on the training grounds, where he was painfully brought to his back, bleeding from half a dozen cuts and bruised all over.

"Was there a point to this?" Thor wanted to know as he carried Loki to the healers. He'd tried to stop a number of times, but Loki had refused to let the sparring end until he could no longer get up.

Loki rested his head against his brother's bicep, eyes closed from pain more physical than emotional, for the moment. "I did a foolish thing," he admitted.

"Next time you need someone to punish you," Thor snapped, "challenge Father to one of your games of wits."

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered, because he knew he'd done wrong again. It seemed he could do little but ruin things today.

Thor sighed and set him gently down on a bed, stepping back to let the healers fuss over the darker haired prince. Only once Loki was healed sufficiently to return to his rooms under his own power did Thor ask, "Did you wish to speak of it?"

Loki considered it, but eventually shook his head. "No. But I am grateful for the offer."

"Sometimes, Brother, for all your wisdom, you are truly the fool," Thor commented.

Loki smiled tiredly. "Walk me to my rooms?"

"Of course."

Loki didn't visit Anthony again, though he did check up on the mortal when he was on Midgard to look in on the other mortals he cared for. Anthony took to sleeping around with a vengeance for a few months, then focussed all his attention on making better weapons, mouth forever turned with an entirely false smile. During his time cloistered in his workshop, Virginia was made his PA – Anthony had a habit of either sleeping with PAs or making them leave in tears, depending on his mood – and refused to be either cowed or seduced. Her presence drew him out of his funk and he returned to his normal life of partying, drinking, and sleeping with anything female.

Loki adored and hated Virginia. She had been little more than an acquaintance during his first life, but he'd known her as both friend and rival for Anthony's affections during his second life. As much as he didn't want to lose Anthony to her again, he knew how important she was in keeping Anthony settled, and they had been truly fine friends before.

Now, he watched them dance around each other with a heavy heart, resigning himself to never again having Anthony as his lover. One day, he might remember that just because he knew all of them, didn't mean they knew him and would forgive him his dry humour and sharp tongue so easily.

Then, one visit, Loki peeked in at Anthony's home and work, only to find him missing. Some subtle inquiries told him he'd vanished in Afghanistan just over a month ago. Loki didn't think, he just teleported to the cave Anthony had once told him of.

He found Anthony working on what Loki knew would become the first Iron Man armour, a pale blue light glaring – achingly familiar – out from his chest. Another mortal also worked in the room, eyeing a couple of metal pieces for a long moment before glancing up and catching sight of Loki. He let out a startled sound and tripped backwards.

"Yinsen?" Anthony said and turned to look where the other mortal was looking. His eyes widened, then narrowed. "_You_," he spat.

Loki shrugged. "Me."

Anthony pointed an inactive blowtorch at him. "This is _your_ doing, isn't it?"

Loki couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter. "Me? What need have I for your little toys when I have all the power I should wish at my very fingertips? No, Anthony, this–" he waved his hand around to encompass the entire situation, "–was begun by one you think to trust."

Anthony snorted. "Yeah, right. Like I'm going to believe you." He turned his back on Loki.

Loki considered the tense lines of Anthony's back, the wide eyes of the mortal that was helping him, and said, "I would facilitate your escape, if you would allow it."

That got Anthony looking at him again. "If I _allow_ it," he repeated, disbelief in his voice. "Don't you think you're some sort of god? Why would you ask for my permission? I'm just some human being."

Loki's mouth quirked up on one side. "Are you?" he murmured quietly to the last part of Anthony's words. Then, meeting the inventor's eyes and raising his voice slightly, he said, "If I were to simply transport you and your companion from here, you would not thank me, nor would you take a chance at escape, should I provide it. You would act on your own, for vengeance, if nothing else."

Anthony's eyes had narrowed again. "You think you know me?"

Loki shrugged. "My tale is a long and complicated one, but let us simply say that we are not so dissimilar, you and I." He tilted his head. "You would escape of your own power, I am certain, but you would require time. I offer you freedom now."

"At what price?" the other mortal – Yinsen, Loki recalled Anthony calling him – asked. To Anthony, he said, "Gods always ask a price for favours."

Loki smiled bitterly. "I owe a debt I may never repay, but for such little things. I ask no price."

"No," Anthony said, staring at Loki with an emotion the god could not understand in his eyes. "No, I don't take freebies." Yinsen snorted, but Loki inclined his head in understanding. "Name a price."

Loki considered him for a long moment, then nodded to the pieces of suit. "When you are safe again in California, finish that. Create it with materials better suited for its use in battle. _True_ battle."

"That's it? You're not going to order me to like you or anything?"

Loki snorted. "In all my life, I have never ordered someone to like me, and there are few enough that do," he commented drily.

"Huh." Anthony finally set down the blowtorch he'd still been holding. "Okay, then. Save us."

Loki motioned and the three of them were standing in the desert some distance from the compound. Around them sat the various explosives that the group had collected, all unboxed and prepared to fire. Yinsen stared around, wide-eyed, but Anthony looked it all over before turning back to where Loki stood calmly a foot away. "Vengeance, huh?"

Loki shrugged. "As you please. What isn't used can be destroyed to keep it safe."

Anthony took that as an invitation and started activating missiles. Yinsen flinched when the first volley hit, but a vicious smile split his face all the same as the explosions became more numerous.

By the time the weapons were near gone, the hideout the two mortals had been kept in was little more than dented ruin in the mountains it had been built into, and both mortals were grinning at each other, Loki forgotten.

Anthony was just turning to Loki, asking, "So, how about getting back to Amer–" when the sound of a helicopter broke over the distant sounds of crumbling rock.

"Your ride," Loki commented and teleported away just before the military helicopter could come into sight.

He didn't see Anthony again for over a week, checking in with those other mortals and paying a brief visit to Asgard when Thor called for him. When he returned to see Anthony, he didn't bother with subtlety, simply appeared on an unoccupied table in the workshop, watching him work on one of his cars.

_"Sir,"_ JARVIS called, cutting the music off.

Anthony pulled himself out from under the car with a scowl, snapping, "JARVIS, what the fu–" He froze upon spotting Loki, eyes going wide for a moment before he managed to control his expression and ask in a falsely calm voice, "Can you get into _anywhere_?"

Loki shrugged one shoulder. "My adopted father has warded some rooms against my manner of travel, at my direction, but otherwise, yes, I can go where I please."

"Teach me how to ward places against you," Anthony ordered, pointing a wrench at the god.

Loki smirked. "No."

Amusement glimmered in Anthony's eyes. "What, Dad have blackmail on you or something?"

Loki snorted. "The Allfather has nothing to use against me that I did not, first, give him." He thinned his mouth and added in a far more sombre tone, "He has in those rooms objects which might be used to destroy the whole of the universe; those wards are as much to stop our enemies as they are to stop me."

"Destroy the _universe_," Anthony choked, eyes wide. "Why the– Fuck! Can't you just fucking destroy them or something?"

"To destroy them would be to begin the very thing we wish to avoid," Loki replied quietly. "To keep them intact is our only promise of continued life, and even that is done knowing they will one day serve their purpose." He looked down at his hands. "All that is given life must die, and all that dies will again create life. That is the cycle of this universe, and it is inescapable."

Anthony picked up a rag from near him and worried it between oil-stained hands. "You know who sold me out, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Loki inclined his head. "I do. Have you discovered it for yourself?"

Anthony took a careful breath. "Yeah." He glanced up at Loki. "Yeah, I caught him. Obie. He's, uh, he's in custody right now, facing trial. But he'll probably get off." His face twisted for a moment with anger before smoothing out. "Us rich bastards often do."

"Should he retain his freedom," Loki said carefully, "I would not allow him to live long. Like any beast of prey, he will seek to destroy what he believes to have done him the greatest harm, and that is you, and those who held him behind bars."

Anthony stiffened. "You think he'll attack other people?"

"I do not believe he cares who he hurts, so long as those for whom he cares little end up paying for his anger; those of his moral standards have little care for excuses or innocence when looking to return slights, be they true or imagined."

"That sounds like personal experience," Anthony said carefully, watching Loki with wary eyes.

Loki smiled at him, thin and bitter. "I have a debt to repay," he reminded the mortal.

"You've said." Anthony jumped up onto a table, facing Loki. "Why? What'd you do?"

"I have done much," Loki replied, and now it was him that was careful. "Have you belief in reincarnation, Anthony?" He knew that the Anthony Stark of previous lives had held little stock in the concept, but he'd always been more willing to listen when first given his say on such matters.

Anthony snorted. "What, like that shit about being a French Lord or something in your previous life? Fuck no."

Loki couldn't quite suppress a fond smile at the expected response. "Not quite. In this, I speak of a complete reincarnation. A re-do of the universe, if you will."

Anthony looked for a moment like he might respond with snark, but then he paused, expression blanking. "Weapons meant to destroy the entire universe, you said," he murmured neutrally, eyes sharp on Loki's careful form.

The god nodded. "I did."

"You're talking about, what? A virus created to end all life, then restart it better than before?"

Loki let out a bitter laugh. "That depends what you mean by 'better', does it not?"

Anthony swallowed. "Then what?"

Loki curled forward, bringing his knees up to rest his chin on them. "We call it Ragnarok. It is the moment those weapons activate and end all life. My people believe all life is a cycle, much like your calendar years. Except, when we reach the end of one cycle, the Ragnarok, everything begins again, as it once was ended. So you would die at Ragnarok, then be born again at the start of the new cycle."

"Like, okay. So, like a computer, right? The hard drive got wiped, but the components are all the same. You put the same software on and everything, download the same pictures, so it _looks_ like it's the same, but it's not?" Anthony suggested.

Loki nodded. "Very like, yes."

"Okay. Okay, I can maybe accept that," Anthony decided. "But, I mean, if the universe is just going to start right back over again, what's the point? Maybe someone will make a different decision here, but unless you remember what happened before, there's, like, a point five percent chance you'll do anything different from the first time, right? So what's the point?"

Loki shrugged. "I do not think to explain the wills of the universe."

Anthony snorted. "Yeah, sure. So who's to say this cycle is even–" He froze, comprehension crossing his features. "You," he said to Loki, stunned and questioning.

And Loki, understanding the question unasked, smiled, tired and bitter. "Can you imagine," he murmured, "knowing from the moment of your birth how you once died? Screaming, not from the pain of birth, but because the last noise you had voiced had been from the pain of having your internal organs ripped out through your belly."

"Oh my god..." Anthony whispered, curling forward over his own knees and mirroring Loki's position. "You– How much do you remember? Is it like, I don't know. Do the memories get written over by changing an event or something?"

"They are like any memories," Loki replied, shaking his head and glancing towards the glass walls by the stairs to the upper levels. "They fade with time, though the magic which gives myself a show of immortality does lessen that fading." He sighed and glanced back at the mortal. "I have lived twice, before this. During my first life I did a great many things I now find no pride in; it is those things for which I pay."

"You're not going to tell me what you did," Anthony realised with a scowl.

Loki flashed him a smile full of mischief in response.

Anthony sighed and reached out to activate one of his holograph interfaces. "So, in these other lives, I had this suit?" he asked as the image appeared, spinning silver in the air.

Loki considered the design. "That appears to be what you often called the 'Mark II'. Something about a difficulty with ice."

_"Your guest is correct, Sir,"_ JARVIS offered. _"There is a high probability of ice build-up at higher altitudes, damaging functionality."_

"Let's fix that," Anthony decided with a grimace. "Find a metal that won't ice."

_"Gold-titanium would be a suitable replacement."_

"Yeah? Show me that."

It hurt in a wonderful way to watch Anthony and JARVIS create together. The mortal had created an AI and crafted with its assistance during Loki's last life, but it hadn't been JARVIS. And it had been a great deal of time, besides, since Loki had last seen Anthony so at ease.

"Little ostentatious, don't you think?" Anthony said of the image JARVIS showed him.

_"What was I thinking?"_ JARVIS returned in that bland tone. _"You're usually so discreet."_

Loki realised, with a start, that Anthony was watching him. "It could use another colour, perhaps," he allowed.

Anthony nodded. "How about a bit of green, JARVIS?"

Loki looked down at his green tunic, uncertain how to react to his once-lover deciding to use that colour. He had little doubt that Anthony would make it look good, but Iron Man had always been red and gold, and this...

_"The render is complete,"_ JARVIS announced and Loki glanced up to look at the armour that had been created. It was actually quite tasteful, in his opinion, but he'd always been biased about his preferred colour. The lack of black kept it looking overmuch like Loki's armour, and the green was a darker shade than Loki usually wore, but one would very likely be able to see the similarities, should they stand shoulder-to-shoulder in battle.

"I like it," Anthony decided, looking again at Loki. "Want to help me test the rockets?" He nodded towards where some sheets were covering a table pushed against the far wall.

Loki snorted. "At least I might keep you from killing yourself. I have seen video of the first tests; you were lucky you didn't break your neck."

Anthony hopped off his table and pointed at Loki, grin wide and excited. "Good thing I've got you here, then, Mr Power at His Fingertips."

"Good thing, indeed," Loki murmured and settled in to assist.

Somehow, with his teasing smiles and easy charm, Anthony managed what neither Thor nor Býleistr had in all their centuries of trying; he managed to get Loki to talk about his past lives. Which wasn't to say Thor and Býleistr hadn't got him to speak occasionally, but Loki had always kept such talk as general as possible; not so when Anthony asked. The mortal had a way of getting under Loki's skin – he always had, in truth – and the god would find himself detailing events in a way he never had before. It was as freeing as it was irritating, and Loki was certain he was falling more in love with the impossible man every time he put a crack in his carefully constructed armour.

A week after Loki had appeared in Anthony's workshop, he mentioned the arc reactor poisoning his blood in another life. JARVIS had been quick to confirm and Anthony had blanked his expression before turning to Loki and asking, "What did that other me do?"

Loki shook his head. "He never told me." Because it was easier for him to think of the many different forms of those he'd spent time with during his lives if he thought of them as separate people. "He did not trust easily – less easily than even you, I think – and I never pressed."

"Well, great," Anthony said, voice too empty to be natural. "That's a help. Thanks."

Loki pressed his lips into a tight line and refused to react to the implication as to his uselessness; three lifetimes should be enough to move past feelings of never being enough, but it really wasn't.

_Never being enough,_ Loki realised and grabbed Anthony's arm as the mortal turned away from him. "Wait. I remember, once, being told it was an element never before seen on Mid– on Earth. Something he had to create himself, based on a map of some form his father left."

There was a spark of challenge in Anthony's eyes, then. "A map?"

Loki shrugged. "I believe that was the word used, yes."

Anthony spent the next two months searching through all of those things of his father's that he hadn't thrown out, looking for the stated map. Loki had to leave for a couple days in the middle of his search, and he returned to find Virginia yelling at her employer at how he'd all but abandoned his company.

Anthony let her rage, only paying attention because she had shoved the box he'd been going through away when he'd kept looking through it. Finally, she ended with, "Do you have _anything_ to say for yourself?"

"I'm looking for a map, something my father left."

"_Why_?" Virginia snapped.

Anthony's expression tightened for a moment, then he straightened and tapped the arc reactor hidden under his shirt. "The palladium is going to kill me, and I need a replacement. Dad supposedly left me with a map that has a new element, but–"

"Wait!" Virginia waved both her hands at him, the stack of papers she'd been holding falling, forgotten, to the floor. "It's going to _what_?!"

"Kill me. Metal poisoning."

Virginia looked horrified.

"I need to find the map he left, so I can make something that'll work. If you can think of any maps, anything that I might have overlooked because it's at the manor or–"

"The Stark Expo," Virginia breathed.

Anthony blinked. "Come again?"

"The– There's a three-dimensional model in your office, of the Expo," she clarified.

Anthony's eyes widened and he looked past her, to where Loki had been leaning against one wall in silence. "Can you get it? It– It's kind of huge–"

"Wha–?" Virginia started.

"It's in your office?" Loki asked and the female jumped and spun to stare at him in shock. "The one in California?"

"Yeah."

"Who is–?"

Loki teleported before Virginia could finish, appearing in Anthony's empty office. It took him but a moment to spot the model Virginia had mentioned, mounted proudly on one wall and half hidden behind a couple bookcases. A twitch of his fingers had both him and the model returned to Anthony's living room.

"–my friend," Anthony was saying, expression coolly unbending as he met Virginia's eyes. "I trust him with my life, and I'd appreciate it if you'd extend the same courtesy."

"I hardly expect such blind trust from anyone other than you, Anthony," Loki commented drily, and Virginia jumped again.

"Liar," Anthony returned without missing a beat. "You expect blind trust from your brother."

"Only one of them," Loki corrected before motioning to the model. "In your workshop?"

"Yeah, please." Anthony hurried to his feet and started towards the stairs down before Loki teleported again. It didn't take the mortal long to join him, taking a slat of the model and setting it on a table he cleared by shoving everything off one side to the floor. "I didn't tell her anything," he added quietly as Loki moved to help.

Loki glanced towards where Virginia stood, helpless, in the open doorway of the workshop. "Had I believed you would, I would not have told you."

"You never would have been able to deny this stunning visage, admit it," Anthony teased, in good humour with the promise of a cure.

"You put far too much belief in your own importance," Loki commented drily, but he was smiling as he set the last piece in place and moved back, out of the way.

"You deny that I'm awesome?"

"I deny that you're as impressive as myself."

"I'll show you impressive!" Anthony called, eyes fever bright with excitement as he turned back to the model and started giving JARVIS directions.

And Anthony did, indeed, show Loki 'impressive', manipulating 3D images like a sculptor with clay, and discovering Howard Stark's hidden message without a single misstep. It was a beautiful performance, and a part of Loki wanted to hope Anthony had acted so because of him. _For_ him. Though, the likelihood was slim, to be honest; what had Loki done to earn Anthony's heart so far? Nothing.

Anthony needed his help setting up the workshop for creation, and Virginia was banned for safety reasons, which she accepted with good humour and an order to, "Come in tomorrow, or I'm calling in the National Guard," which Anthony had laughed off, then promptly agreed to when she picked up an abandoned blowtorch with danger in her eyes.

_Only Virginia Potts can get Anthony to act in any form approaching maturity,_ Loki thought, amused, as she stalked from the workshop, her head held high. Jealousy or no, he would always adore that quality in his rival for Anthony's affections.

"Let's do this!" Anthony crowed and they worked in easy tandem until they had the new element, burning the colour of the Tesseract, held between them.

"It is most beautiful," Loki murmured, and he couldn't be certain if he meant the element, the man awash in the light of it, or both.

"Yeah, it is," Anthony breathed and turned away to set the triangle of light into a new casing. Then, ignoring JARVIS' cautions, he switched it for his old one. His eyes went wide and he made a surprised sound. "Uh. Wow. Tastes like coconut and... metal..."

Loki twitched at the words, memory of exotic-tasting kisses racing to the forefront of his mind. "Indeed," he managed evenly.

Anthony looked up at him, something sharp in his gaze. "Have you ever had coconut before?" he asked, an apparent non sequitur.

Loki smiled, unforced and fond, at a memory of two lifetimes past, when another Anthony had thought to teach him exactly what that impossible taste on his tongue was. "I have." He didn't much care for the taste, honestly, having found it a poor substitute for Anthony's kisses. He had very carefully avoided the fruit during his last life, having no wish to torment himself with something he could never have. And, if it was truly a by-product of this element, he wouldn't have had it even if he _had_ kissed that Anthony.

"They have coconuts on Asgard?" Anthony wondered, oddly close.

Loki shook his head, uncertain if he wanted to back up or not. "No. Some other of your tropical fruits–"

Anthony's mouth on Loki's silenced him. He tasted coconut and the zing of a sword after battle, and Loki moaned against the mortal, reaching up to cup his face. It didn't even matter, in that moment, that Anthony could be using him as a quick fuck, because Loki had spent nearly four millennia without this mortal, and he _wanted_.

Anthony's mouth moved from Loki's lips, trailing fire down to his jaw and along the bone. One of Loki's hands buried in the mortal's hair, directing his lips to those spots that Loki loved best. His other hand trailed down Anthony's throat and over his shoulder, scratching a long line down his back that had the mortal arching and growling against his throat.

"Bedroom," Anthony ordered, voice rough, and Loki wasted no time in teleporting them directly onto the mortal's bed, clothing vanishing somewhere along the way. "Fuck, yes," Anthony hissed, his hands roaming along the sides of the god beneath him, blunt nails digging in at all the right spots while his mouth worried a particularly sensitive patch of skin just under the god's left ear, and Loki threw his head back and _groaned_.

There were no words as Anthony rutted against him, uncoordinated and _perfect_, hands and lips pressing into all the perfect spots without notice, and Loki dragged that sinful mouth back up to his as Anthony's hand wrapped around both their members, pumping them a little too fast, yet somehow just right.

When he came, Loki breathed, "_Tony_," against his mortal's lips like a benediction, and Anthony let out a whimper of pure pleasure, his hand forcefully bringing both of them through their orgasm.

After, when Anthony was held tight in Loki's arms on the bed, the mortal said, "I'm sorry."

Loki tensed. "Why?" he asked with forced calm, biting down on the need to plead, _Please don't send me away, please don't break my heart._

One of Anthony's hands came up to stroke over Loki's heart, the top of his head knocking the god's chin as he leaned up enough to meet eyes. The brown orbs were dark, now, with experiences he had never lived, and he said, "For pushing you away, last time."

Loki reached up and cupped his mortal's cheek, breath catching at the familiar way Anthony nuzzled his palm. "You didn't push me away," he whispered.

Anthony closed his eyes, ashamed. "Pep and I... we've always been friends first. You know that." He'd explained as such in their first life, trying to make Loki – who had been angry and just looking for a quick fuck, at the time – understand why he had broken up with his girlfriend of two years. "Last time, it was the same. We'd dated, briefly, during one of the times you were gone. Your mysteries of eternal youth."

Loki smiled sadly, remembering well what the ex-Avengers had joked about him always leaving. "I had a realm to rule," he whispered.

Anthony nodded, ducking his face more fully against Loki's palm. "I'd always been attracted to you, from the moment I realised what attraction was, would jerk off to thoughts of you in the dark," he admitted quietly, and Loki's hand spasmed against his nose. "But, Loki, you were immortal, were forever young, and always gone. I thought it would hurt too much, to be forever waiting for someone who always looked the same while I turned grey and died. So I asked Pep to marry me, and we made it work, because I couldn't–" He let out a choked noise, and liquid leaked against Loki's palm. "I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"Anthony," Loki breathed, and he pulled the mortal down for a kiss, forgiving and wet on both their parts. Because they could have had this a lifetime ago, but for fear of time. "My Anthony. Sweet, wonderful Anthony." He wiped his thumbs under the mortal's eyes until they opened to look at him again, water like diamonds framing that familiar brown. "I love you," Loki whispered. "Four thousand years and on until I am no longer so cursed; _I. Love. You._"

Anthony let out a sound that was laugh and sob, and he nudged their noses together. "I love you more," he said, an old joke started during a particularly nasty argument when they first realised they were more than just enemies fucking on the side.

"I love you most," Loki responded.

"I love you forever." And it wasn't in the script, but it settled between them like it had been there all along; a silent promise fulfilled even beyond the end of all life.

And Loki realised, that if this cycle would be his last to remember, he would die happy, because it was everything he'd been searching for over nearly six millennia.

..


End file.
